HE came not, with His heavenly crown, His sceptre clad with power,
His coming, was in feebleness, the infant of an hour;
An humble manger cradled, first, the Virgin's holy birth,
And lowing herds companioned there, the Lord of heaven and earth,
He came not, in His robe of wrath, with arm outstretched to slay;
But, on the darkling paths of earth, to pour celestial day,
To guide in peace, the wandering feet; the broken heart, to bind;
And bear, upon the painful cross, the sins of human kind.
And Thou hast borne them, Saviour meek! and therefore, unto Thee,
In humbleness, and gratitude, our hearts shall offered be;
And greenly, as the festal bough, that, on Thy altar, lies,
Our souls, our bodies, all be Thine, a living sacrifice!
Yet once again, Thy sign shall be, upon the heavens, displayed,
And earth, and its inhabitants, be terribly afraid, For, not in weakness, clad,
Thou com'st, our woes, our sins, to bear,
But girt with all Thy Father's might, His vengeance to declare.
The terrors of that awful day, Oh I who shall understand
Or, who abide, when Thou in wrath, shalt lift Thy holy hand?
The earth shall quake, the sea shall roar, the sun in heaven grow pale,
But Thou hast sworn, and wilt not change, Thy faithful shall not fail!
Then grant us, Saviour! so to pass our time, in trembling, here,
That when, upon the clouds of heaven, Thy glory shall appear,
Uplifting high our joyful heads, in triumph, we may rise,
And enter, with Thine angel train, Thy temple, in the skies!